Asylum
by Merakia
Summary: Lothiriel is sent to a "retreat" and finds it to be anything but a retreat. A/N: This is merely a glimpse into a possible story, so please read and review! Rated T for some disturbing imagery/ideas.


Lothíriel paced her cell. A small iron bed with a thin mattress sat in one corner. Her trunk sat at the foot of the bed. A small mirror hung next to the door with a washbasin and water jug on a shelf beneath it. There was little else in the room other than that. Her world was grey and white with hints of blue and yellow. For grey, there was the stone floor and walls. There was also the bed, basin, and jug, all of which were made of grey iron. For white, there were the walls and bed linens. The morning sun streamed through the tiny widow, giving her glimpses of yellow and the reminder of a blue sky. Up and down, down and up. Twenty steps in one way, twenty in the other. Lothíriel continued her relentless pacing. Eventually, she stopped in front of the mirror. She was pale, almost ghostlike. Then she turned towards the window. She caught glimpses of the barren courtyard. She sighed and remembered the events leading to her aunt sending her to Celos River Retreat. It was all because she refused to wear a certain dress.

_Some retreat_, she thought grimly. _Minimal food rations, barely decent living situations, and far too much work._ She seated herself on the bed and closed her eyes, reviewing the reason for why she was currently in solitary confinement. It happened a month ago when a mother died, leaving her seven year old daughter. They had intended to send the girl out into the wild. And she had refused to stand by. She had promised to share her bed and food. They allowed it for one week until they heard the girl crying for her mother one night. They would have thrown her into solitary confinement if Lothíriel hadn't taken her place.

The next morning, they blindfolded her and took her to a room filled with skeins of cotton, wool, and flax. There was also much wool and cotton to be carded and spun. A spinning wheel and loom stood in the center with the dimmed light from a dirty window shining upon it. In a corner, there stood a bed and other furniture similar to the confinement cell.

"You shall work here until the Headmistress deems you have learned your lesson," the guards stated coldly.

Lothíriel knew better than to protest at their nonsensical reasons. Instead, she curtseyed and went straight to work. Her stomach was empty as she had not eaten that morning, but she had learned to ignore the hunger. She began working with a woolen web. The soft skeins felt wonderful as she tossed the shuttle back and forth. She knew not how much time passed. She wove until she could barely hold the shuttle. She stopped her work and found food and water at the door. After eating, she headed straight towards her bed and slumbered until a bell awoke her. Noting her pile of wool skeins growing low, she started the spinning wheel. She was glad to have the spinning wheel, for then she could at least exercise to some degree.

The time passed, and eventually, the guards did not bother to check her work. They only came every three days to replenish her water and give her food, allowing Lothíriel ample time to rest as she had not the energy to keep up a steady flow of work.

* * *

Imrahil glared at his sister. He growled angrily, "Where is my daughter? I send her to you for one year to protect her from the war, and now you say she no longer wishes to see me?"

"She cannot, for it is improper," his sister answered icily.

"Improper? To see her own father?" He roared, slamming his fist on the table. "I raised her to love her family and stand her ground. If you do not tell me now, I shall use more forcible means."

"You raised the girl ill," said Ivriniel, her voice as cold as steel. "She is too forward in her manner and altogether a wild child. I sent her to a school to learn proper manners. It is nestled deep in the countryside where no enemy should find her."

"The famous school all unwanted daughters attend?" Imrahil snarled scornfully. "Trust me, I have heard of that place. Every man who can afford it sends their unwanted female relative there. Women who think beyond the confines of this society are deemed as lunatics. Women who are considered worthless by society. Yes, I have heard of this place. I thought you loved me enough to shelter Lothíriel, but I know I am wrong now." He stormed out of his sister's house, not daring to stay another moment under her roof.

As soon as he returned to Minas Tirith, Imrahil barged into a meeting between Aragorn and Éomer, heedless of the guard's protests. Startled by Imrahil's unusual behavior, the King of Gondor and the King of Rohan waited quietly for Imrahil to speak.

"Sires," he began. "Forgive me for interrupting in so rude a fashion, but I have a matter of great urgency. My lord king, have you heard of the abandoned mansion near the beginning of the Celos River?"

Aragorn nodded, "Indeed, I have been there once long ago, but it was quite deserted."

"On the contrary, sire," said Imrahil with a cold gleam in his eyes, "it is filled with the women society has scorned. They call it Celos River Retreat."

"Is someone you know there?" Éomer whispered grimly.

At this Imrahil's stern exterior broke. Tears of anger and grief rolled down his cheeks. With pleading eyes, he sobbed, "Someone I love dearly."

Aragorn helped Imrahil to a seat and waited for the man to continue. Eventually, Imrahil shared everything he knew regarding the Celos River Retreat. They then made their plans. First, they raised support among the people to gather boats and horses as well as food and clothing. They also gathered a team of healers. Queen Arwen also insisted on coming with some of her elven handmaids since many women would most likely need more than physical healing.

And so, they set off within a week. As they neared the Retreat, they noted thriving fields and the many women laboring beneath the sun. A large stone mansion stood in the distance. Imrahil, Éomer, Aragorn, and Arwen ordered their entourage of healers and helpers to remain while they continued. It was delicate ground they tread, and the last thing they needed was for the women to be afraid of them. As they approached, they noted the iron bars in the upper windows and barren courtyard.

It did not take much to capture the Headmistress and her associates. Imrahil forced the Headmistress call her inmates to the courtyard to declare her resignation. Arwen then appeared and gently broke the news to them, assuring them that they were indeed free.

While all the ceremonies were attended to, Éomer slipped away from his noble friends to his èored, which had gathered in the common hall, thanks to the kitchen door. In his hand, he held the Headmistress' keys. He sent his men to explore the upper regions to find any person in confinement, reminding them to be gentle to any inmates they found. With that, he searched the cellar and any places for hidden doors. After much searching, he found a hidden door behind a tapestry in a room filled with looms. Éomer soon found the key and inserted it into the lock. The lock was rusty, but it eventually gave in.

It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He noted a lone loom and spinning wheel in the center with a small stack of a few bolts of cloth. In the corner, he spotted a bed with a figure on it. Without hesitation, he headed towards the bed and picked up the maiden. Though tall, she was far too light. Her eyelids flew open, her pale silvery eyes large against her pale, gaunt face. Then she smiled and whispered something before closing her eyes once more.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! I do realize that there is plenty of room for improvement in terms of plot and timing. All the same, I'd love to know what you think and if this is worth turning into an actual story.


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